


Sight for Sore Eyes

by Marks



Category: Bleach
Genre: Community: springkink, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-02
Updated: 2007-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yumichika likes what he sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sight for Sore Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "Bleach, Ikkaku/Yumichika: Sex in public - A sight worth seeing." Hope I did the prompt justice! I welcome any and all comments.

***

Yumichika sighs and tries not to smile as he leans over Ikkaku. "Why must you always look so ugly after you fight?"

Ikkaku is covered in blood, slashes to the face and chest and arms, nothing more than a walking, bald bruise, but he's grinning and flush with victory over the Arrancar and when he struggles to his elbows and laughs, Yumichika loses the battle with his lips, mouth twitching prettily at the corners.

"It's a gift," Ikkaku says and winks.

As always, Yumichika likes what he sees.

***

Madarame is a quiet and sensitive boy, polite to adults and popular with the girls who like to touch his hair and make him blush to its roots. People like that aren't meant to live in the 78th district of the Rukongai, and Yumichika hates him. Artifice is so fake, so unattractive, and Yumichika dislikes transparency.

He throws a glob of mud at the back of Madarame's head as he passes, and when Madarame whirls around, just for a second, Yumichika sees a flash of something flicker in those cool eyes.

"Pretty," Yumichika says to himself, but Madarame is his collected self again a moment later. He doesn't bother to conceal his disappointment but sticks his tongue out instead.

Madarame walks away.

***

The next day Yumichika employs a new tactic. It's not as though Madarame's schedule varies much from day-to-day; no one's does, really, being dead and all. There's not much to do in the Rukongai other than study or fight or moan about lives past, and Madarame appears too stuck up to fight.

"Lovely morning, isn't it?" Yumichika sing-songs. Madarame has just enough time to look up from the pages of his book before Yumichika gets both hands on his shoulders and gives him a hard shove.

"What the _hell_?" Madarame shouts and launches himself up and forward, so quick that Yumichika barely realizes it as he gets knocked to the ground. Madarame is on him a moment later, straddling Yumichika's waist as he punches Yumichika's face, his throat, everywhere his hands can reach, and his book in a puddle, ruined and forgotten. And Yumichika is grinning, really grinning, even though he hates getting dirty under any circumstances and he's having his face pummeled.

"I underestimated you," Yumichika says happily and knees Madarame in the groin. He leaps to his feet, leaving Madarame in a crumpled, groaning heap. "Ayasegawa Yumichika. You might want to get some ice on that."

This time he's the one to walk away, humming to himself.

***

"Where'd you get that?" Yumichika pants, blade of Madarame's sword close to his throat. He likes this more than he could have predicted, the dangerous glint of metal matching the look in Madarame's eyes. This time Madarame is the one to surprise Yumichika, and already something else is different than in days past; red streaks across Madarame's eyelids, marking his true self.

And that truth is pretty, beautiful, almost as much of a turn on as the sword at his throat. Yumichika shudders.

"You like this," Madarame says slowly, surprised at the revelation.

"So?"

Madarame narrows his eyes. "Madarame Ikkaku," he says. "You kicked me in the balls."

"I did!" Yumichika says happily. "That was fun."

"Don't do it again, Ayasegawa." Madarame lowers his sword.

"You may call me Yumichika."

"Ikkaku, then. You still can't kick me in the balls."

Yumichika tilts his head. "Maybe not kick," he says thoughtfully, and grabs the front of Ikkaku's hakama to kiss him. Ikkaku's initial rigid shock melts into something more pliable, far more striking, and his lips part under Yumichika's tongue, his sword clattering to the ground.

The kiss barely broken, the sword is already in Yumichika's hand, flat of the blade against Ikkaku's throat.

"I'm keeping this." Yumichika bats his eyelashes.

"That's okay," Ikkaku says. "I'll just steal another one." He pushes Yumichika back against the stone wall and kisses him again, teeth sinking hard into Yumichika's bottom lip.

Yumichika closes his eyes and moans. He had _really_ underestimated Ikkaku.

***

"Listen, I think you have the wrong idea about me." Ikkaku grabs the cuff of Yumichika's new yukata as they pass each other in the marketplace. Ikkaku's appearance is drab and impeccable again, completely at contrast to Yumichika's eye-catching outfit. Yumichika glares at Ikkaku's fingers until Ikkaku drops his hand to his side again.

"Do I?" Yumichika asks coldly. He should have known that underestimating others isn't in his beautiful nature and ignores the cold disappointment clawing at his chest.

"Yeah, I mean..." Ikkaku jerks his head toward a nearby alleyway and, against his better judgment, Yumichika follows. "I mean, I can tell you're...the way you are."

Yumichika's mouth sets in straight line. "What way?"

" _That_ way," Ikkaku says with an unmistakable flick of his wrist. "I don't kiss guys in alleyways. I've tried very hard to be a respectable member of Soul Society."

"A liar in Soul Society," Yumichika says evenly. "There's nothing wrong with living a boring life if that's what you're meant to do, even though I don't believe that you are. It's an ugly, terrible choice for someone like you to make, but what's one more lie, really?"

"It's not a lie!" Ikkaku protests and grabs the front of Yumichika's yukata again, making him practically more familiar with it than the person wearing it.

"So you don't feel it?" Yumichika asks, arching up and pressing his whole body against Ikkaku's. For his part, Yumichika definitely feels _something_ pressed against his leg. "It doesn't make your blood boil to hold a sword in your hand, to fight? Just thinking about it, even."

"No," Ikkaku says, but the way he refuses to meet Yumichika's eyes tells more than any protests he makes. "Listen, Yumichika," he says and makes the mistake of looking up then, eyes widening just enough that Yumichika knows the victory is his. Ikkaku snorts to himself and shakes his head. Then he leans forward and mashes his lips against Yumichika's, Yumichika letting out a little hum of pleasure even though the kiss is uncontrolled and unattractive, really, making Yumichika feel for any females Ikkaku must have tried doing this with. His hands still shake though, as he clutches at the Ikkaku's back, his head tilted back as Ikkaku's mouth attacks his throat against the exact line where metal had pressed the last time they'd met.

The people in the marketplace pass silently by, not realizing the battle that's being waged a few feet away, Ikkaku's hand snaking inside Yumichika's clothing to stroke him, exquisite up-down motions delivered at a breathtaking pace. That combined with the thrill of possible discovery makes Yumichika revoke his earlier insults of inexperience.

"You're so pretty," Ikkaku says, shaking his head and making his hair fly in all directions. "Like a girl. Hard to believe you have a cock under all this."

"I..." Yumichika sinks his teeth into his lip, the exact spot where Ikkaku had broken skin earlier, and moans as Ikkaku twists his wrist. "I have never pretended to be anything I'm not."

Yumichika's fingers sink into Ikkaku's hair as he comes, shaking and gasping as he pulls hard at the strands, pulls Ikkaku's hair _off_. His gasps of pleasure quickly turn into gasps of laughter, helpless ones so hard that Ikkaku has to punch him in the side of the head to shut him up. Oh. Yumichika grimaces. He didn't need _that_ in his hair, protein content and all.

"Why should you get to be the only pretty one?" Ikkaku growls and pulls Yumichika's hair again, which decidedly doesn't come off. Despite the mess, Yumichika sparkles at the compliment.

"Who says I am?" Yumichika drops Ikkaku's wig, grinds it into the ground with one pretty sandal, ruining it in dark Rukongai dust. He pulls Ikkaku forward again and pushes one leg between Ikkaku's, making Ikkaku groan and Yumichika decide that he could get used to seeing this. "Truth is pretty. Cue ball."

***

"Ugly, ugly," Yumichika taunts, draping Ikkaku over his shoulders. He wants to treat all of Ikkaku's injuries right then, make him beautiful and whole again, but that will have to wait until later. The human with the room and board is looking on, and Yumichika has learned patience. Even if he still wants to throw a ball of mud at the human's dreadful, gaping face.

"You try looking pretty after a fight," Ikkaku grumbles, but there's no heat there.

Yumichika gathers up the pieces of Hozukimaru one-by-one and tucks them back into Ikkaku's sash. "I always do," he sniffs. "I'm the pretty one, after all."

"Who says you are?" Ikkaku grins and rubs his face with the back of one hand, clearing away some of the grime.

You do, Yumichika thinks, but stays silent on the matter. Ikkaku is alive and, in the end, that's all that matters.

It's been hundreds of years, but Yumichika still likes what he sees.

END


End file.
